Nihilism
by Simone Robinson
Summary: The cashier slid his gaze across Leo without really seeing. That empty stare, heavy with complete indifference, filled his anxious, humming nerves with relief. There was nothing like the sweet freedom of complete and utter nihilism, experienced at a 7/11 at 2am. God lived in church; the quiet of the unfeeling universe lived in aisle nine of the CVS.


**Nihilism**

* * *

Late night cashiers at 24-hour convenience stores are the holders of our greatest secrets and most intimate selves.

They scan the haphazard baskets of nicotine patches and energy drinks, pushed across by exhausted drivers, fingers yellowed and trembling. They ring up the condoms bought at three in the morning, pushed across the counter anxiously while a single mom tugs at her bangs and tries to hide her face.

And now it was his turn. Standing in front of the cash register, pulling down the hood of his jacket, he prayed that the cashier was the unobservant type.

Leo pushed the items onto the counter quickly, the sleeves of his stolen coat ill fitting and too revealing for his tastes. The damp warmth, repulsive and persistent, slid down his side, soaking into his waistband. He adjusted his stance.

The cashier, who's age was impossible to determine, slid his gaze across Leo without really seeing. That empty stare, filled with complete indifference, filled his anxious, humming nerves with relief.

There was nothing like the sweet freedom of complete and utter nihilism, experienced at a 7/11 at 2am. God lived in church; the quiet of the unfeeling universe lived in aisle nine of the CVS downtown.

The cashier, nameless and ageless, wiped the sweat from his forehead, which glistened with a recent outbreak of acne. The fans whirring ahead were a welcome distraction, but Leo could have done without the cold air. The cold was already seeping into his bones, aching so deeply that his body trembled.

"Thirty bucks."

Leo blinked, glanced at the glowing register screen numbers, and handed over a couple of dirty, crumpled notes stashed in the inner pocket of his coat. Not his coat. Not his money either. Then again, the original owner hadn't exactly been a model citizen. The money probably wasn't his either.

He glanced at the glowing screen, eyes flicking towards the timestamp. 2:06; Don would still be awake.

Leo didn't wait for the change to be pushed back across the counter, the late-night dance of exchange. Instead, he grabbed the items, stashing them in his coat pockets, the bell jingling as he pushed open the grease-smeared front door, and stepped into the night.

The darkness was welcoming after the harsh fluorescent glare of the gas station lights. It cloaked him, enveloping his mistake in the inky, velvety darkness. Then again, Leo wasn't sure if it made much of a difference. There was no meaning in the empty glow of the CVS, but there was no meaning in the darkness spreading outside either.

Finding the corner of the building, Leo took a few steps further, before sinking back against the brick wall, out of sight. Emptying his pockets, he lifted the fabric, gritting his teeth as it caught on the ragged skin. He glanced down, taking a deep breath and shaking his head in disgust. It was a wonder a knife that dull had even managed to leave its mark.

It was abhorrent that it had managed to touch him in the first place. He never got hit. Leo wrapped up a bandage and cut it, pressing it firmly to the gash, gritting his teeth and dropping his head back against the wall behind him. Silent, ragged breaths tumbled into the air around him. He swallowed harshly as the world eased to a slow spin.

The shattered remains of the shell cell clattered from his belt at the movement, but Leo barely noticed.

Twenty minutes to get home. Fifteen if he hurried. 2:31; he might have to wake Don up. Maybe.

Luckily for him, his brother held on to the belief of learning, the communication of science and the radical refusal to condemn existence. In short, he had a purpose. That was good.

What wasn't good was the way his thoughts were starting to wonder. Scepticism, pessimism and cynicism all fell away when confronted with base agony, with the metallic stench of blood that was getting harder to hide with each passing second.

Philosophy had no place here. Good. He had been getting sick of it anyway.

With shaking hands, he emptied the water bottle, rinsing away the excess blood and dirt, before pressing the bandage firmly in place again. Leo wasn't sure exactly how he managed to wrap the remainder around himself, or how he managed to tighten it in place, but the cold was starting to ebb, replaced with a burning heat that started in his side. Swallowing the painkillers dry, the water bottle long since empty and on the ground, Leo pushed himself to his feet.

He needed to hurry. He needed to move because if he didn't move now, he wouldn't move again.

God lived in church; the agony of the unfeeling, nihilistic universe lived at the back of the CVS downtown. And the devil, the devil was right on his heels.


End file.
